A Better Choice
by RafeDurk
Summary: Wickham delivers some devastating information to Darcy during the Netherfield Ball. Can he just stand back and allow Elizabeth to marry someone else?


A one-shot for your holiday pleasure (even though it has nothing to do with the holidays).

**~*~ A Better Choice ~*~**

Darcy wanted to dance a second time with Miss Elizabeth, but he could not. He had to be sure not to show her any particular attention that would raise her expectations or those of the neighborhood, the neighborhood being, in particular, Mrs. Bennet. It was good, then, that she had had a partner for every set so far, as it removed any temptation to solicit her hand for himself once more. Not that he would have succumbed to said temptation, but it was still convenient to avoid the possibility altogether. Just as he had done by remaining above stairs until after the first dance was over to keep from asking her to dance the moment she stepped into Netherfield.

If only circumstances were different. If only her family were not quite so ridiculous. So many ifs. Added to that, watching her dance the supper dance with Mr. Collins was a painful exercise. The man clearly had so little knowledge of the steps that he spent more time bowing and apologizing to the other dancers than he did attending to his own partner. Darcy could practically feel the heat of Miss Elizabeth's mortified blush from where he stood on the other side of the ballroom. In his experience, there were few things less pleasant at a ball then being forced to endure a pair of dances with an unskilled and irksome partner.

"Lovely couple, aren't they?" Darcy jumped at the slightly slurred voice coming from right behind him.

"Wickham," he hissed, turning, though not so much as to completely lose sight of Miss Elizabeth. "I thought you had more sense than to show yourself here."

Wickham waved a hand dismissively, spilling some punch from his cup as he did so. Darcy took half a step back to avoid the liquid. "I only wanted to see _her_ one last time. She saw right through me, you know. Never had that happen before. It's intriguing."

Darcy agreed with that assessment, but he would not give Wickham the satisfaction of saying so aloud. "You would be wise to think no more of her. Miss Bennet is too clever for the likes of you, Wickham."

"Yes, and too clever for him as well." Wickham jerked his chin back toward the line of dancers before swallowing what little punch remained in his glass. "You need not set yourself up as her protector, Darcy. Miss Elizabeth is in no danger from me; I do not dally with engaged or married women."

Darcy had been looking for a footman he might enlist to remove the drunken Mr. Wickham from the ballroom-the man was actually swaying on his feet!-but he was brought up short by Wickham's words. "Engaged?"

"Yes. It is all Mrs. Bennet can speak of. Well, that and the match between Miss Bennet and your friend. Nevermind, I have seen what I came to see, and I shall trouble you no more." Weaving slightly, Wickham made his way out of the ballroom, leaving behind a stunned Darcy.

It could not be true! But why else would Wickham be so very drunk? The man was a scoundrel, but he survived using his wits and his charm, and he generally remained sober enough to command the full use of both. Darcy stalked the edges of the ballroom, always keeping Miss Elizabeth in his view. Wickham must have been lying, he must have. Miss Elizabeth's every look bespoke of irritation and impatience to be free of Mr. Collins' company. Miss Elizabeth would never agree to marry that...that...sniveling excuse for a man.

His feet had taken him near Mrs. Bennet, and he paused for a moment to allow her and Lady Lucas to pass. As usual, Mrs. Bennet was talking incessantly. "...and dancing with her twice, of course! They look so well together. Two daughters married! How good it shall be. To be sure, Mr. Collins is nothing to Mr. Bingley, but it shall be of great comfort to know that my daughter will one day take my place at Longbourn. But do not despair, Lady Lucas, I am sure Charlotte will attract a suitor soon. Perhaps Mr. Collins has a friend…"

Mrs. Bennet's voice was swallowed by the crowd, leaving Darcy shivering as though someone had emptied a bucket of ice water on his head. He had to leave. Tomorrow! Bingley had business in London, Darcy would accompany him and never have to see Miss Elizabeth Bennet again!

A week later Darcy finally admitted that putting Miss Elizabeth Bennet from his mind was proving more difficult than he had anticipated. It was not just the woman herself who arrested his thoughts, but the images that sprang to mind of her married to Mr. Collins. How would she fare being at the whim of Lady Catherine's edicts on proper behavior and constantly subjected to Mr. Collins' fawning and ill-conceived civility?

Two weeks later he had given in and was riding toward Hertfordshire. Yes, there was a stigma associated with a broken engagement, but it would surely be offset by the brilliance of the match with him. Miss Elizabeth could not fail to recognize that, although it might take some convincing on his part. Especially since he had not courted her at all. But was he not a better choice than Mr. Collins?

The miles flew by as he alternately planned how he would propose and imagined what their courtship would have been: long walks through the gardens around Longbourn, turning pages for her as she played the piano, and stimulating conversations over tea in the drawing room. It was the shortest three hours he had ever spent on horseback.

In a considerably better mood than he had been in for the last two weeks, he leapt from his mount, tossing the reins to the boy who came running. When he knocked, the door was opened by a tired-looking servant in worn clothing. She took his card, but shook her head when he asked to be shown in. "The family left not five minutes ago for the church, sir. For the wedding."

"Wedding?" His stomach twisted and his heart seemed to have taken up residence in his throat. He swallowed to force it back to its proper location. "Yes, well thank you, I shall call again another time."

Hastening off as politely as possible, Darcy managed to arrive at the church in time to see the Bennets enter. This was not how he imagined it! Miss Elizabeth was supposed to have been at Longbourn, where, after a visit with the rest of the family, he could ask her to show him the gardens or some other suitable excuse. Then, when they had some semblance of privacy, he would begin the work of convincing her to break her engagement. Such a decision was not one to be made in a moment, yet a moment was all he had now! An unaccustomed bout of indecision froze his feet to the ground. It had seemed such a good plan last night, but was it salvageable now? Perhaps retreat would be the wisest course after all.

The church door opened slightly and Miss Elizabeth slipped out, leaning against the wall with a heavy sigh. The forlorn picture she presented-shoulders stooped, head bowed, the very antithesis of what a bride should be on her wedding day-stirred him to action.

"Miss Bennet? Please, do not despair. It will all be well."

She startled slightly when he spoke and roused herself to curtsey a greeting but did not throw off the melancholy that cloaked her. Then she shook her head, "How can it be well? Mr. Collins is such a man."

His breath quickened. Perhaps she would not be as opposed to jilting her betrothed as he thought. "He is the kind of man with whom few sensible women could be happy. But the marriage need not happen."

Miss Elizabeth looked up, eyes wide. "Of course it must! What is the alternative? Becoming a jilt and living in shame?"

"Me. The alternative would be to marry me. I had intended to introduce the idea slowly, give you time, and convince you of the ardency of my feelings, but circumstances being what they are, I must declare myself now. Miss Elizabeth, I love you, and I am convinced we can be very happy together. Please, call off the wedding to Mr. Collins and do me the honor of being my wife."

For the latter half of his speech, Darcy had been unable to read the emotions on his love's face. Would she respond with joy? Anger? Uncertainty?

She laughed, and Darcy's jaw dropped open and stayed that way as her merriment poured forth.

"Mr. Darcy, did you come here to stop my marriage to Mr. Collins?" she said, laughter still evident in her voice. He couldn't answer, but she must have interpreted his silence as an affirmative. "It is my sister Mary who is to marry today."

Well, that explained the laughter. Heat rushed to Darcy's cheeks and ears; what a picture he must make to Miss Elizabeth, standing there red faced having made an entirely unwarranted proposal of marriage. "But, but Wickham said-the night of the ball..." he stammered.

Again that enchanting laugh. "I was not acquainted with Mr. Wickham for five minutes before I knew he was not a man to be trusted. Why would you, who have known him for much longer than I, give credence to what he said."

"I did not wish to," he admitted, "but I heard your mother speak of having two daughters married. She spoke of Mr. Collins and her daughter being mistress of Longbourn." His eyes widened and he caught his breath, feeling the flush intensify. "But she never said _which _daughter." How mortifying. And Elizabeth was standing there, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"It was very gallant of you to ride to my rescue, but I assure you I would have to have taken complete leave of my senses to accept Mr. Collins. And for all of my mother's enthusiasm to see her daughters married, my father would support my refusal."

Someone cleared a throat nearby, drawing Darcy's attention away from his confusion. "Elizabeth, would you care to join the rest of the family inside? I believe there is a wedding about to take place, and your sister is asking for you. You would not wish your absence to incite your mother's nerves."

"Yes, Father." It might have been uncharitable, but Darcy smiled slightly to see Miss Elizabeth sharing in his own embarrassment, even though he did not appreciate Mr. Bennet's use of sardonic wit at Miss Elizabeth's expense.

"And you, young man. I believe we need to have a conversation later. Please, consider yourself invited to the wedding breakfast. It will provide me with an excuse to absent myself from the festivities."

That brought him up short. He had made an offer of marriage and received no answer. What was the appropriate etiquette? What would Mr. Bennet wish to know? Most importantly, would Miss Elizabeth even welcome his visit after he had made such a fool of himself?

"Forgive me, sir, but although I have no objections to speaking with you I am unsure if it is necessary. Perhaps Miss Bennet would offer her own opinion on the matter."

Miss Elizabeth, who had been on the point of reentering the church stopped and turned around, a beautiful smile gracing her lips. "A woman would have to be heartless to remain unmoved by such a daring declaration of love. You may come to call, Mr. Darcy."

He bowed. "Thank you, Miss Bennet, I shall. Then I shall be happy to speak with you later, Mr. Bennet."

"And, if I may," she said, her smile broadening, "I would like to offer my congratulations on your success."

Darcy's brows furrowed and Elizabeth laughed. "Well, you prevented my marriage to Mr. Collins, did you not?"

Never would Darcy have expected to find being laughed at pleasant, but if it was Elizabeth doing the laughing, he could learn to enjoy it. Smiling, he followed Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet into the church.

If Mr. Collins did fawn over Mr. Darcy conveying Lady Catherine's approval with his presence, if Mrs. Bennet did simper and smile, and try to pair him with first Miss Jane Bennet and then Miss Lydia, and if Mr. Bennet was having too much pleasure at Darcy's expense, he had only to recall the memory of Elizabeth's smiles and laughter to be content.

She had not accepted the offer of his hand, but she had accepted his declaration of love, and for now that was enough.

**~*~ The End ~*~**

A scoundrel, an engagement, and a proposal, what more could you wish for? Let me know.


End file.
